Little Wing
by Leira Carroll
Summary: This is a songfic about Ron W. and a charactor I made up...she's Harry's twin sis...


Reader be warned: This is my second songfic ever. The first one sorta sucks. But be careful cuz this one will too probably. The song is Little Wing by the Corrs. I like this song, but sadly I did not write it. But without further ado, here is my songfic  
  
Little Wing  
  
I couldn't stop crying. I ran my hand over the writing carved in the cold, hard stone, snow falling about my feet. I was wrapped up warm and the snow was soft. I couldn't stop crying. I knew it was silly. Kneeling there in the snow, my pants getting wet and dirty. But I couldn't stop crying. It had been a year ago now. The flowers I had laid down fifteen minutes ago were snow-covered already. I couldn't stop crying. I had lost her. It had been my fault. As I ran my hand over the stone again I could feel the words. I knew what was there. The stone read Erin Potter 1987 **- 2008 "May the link we make be never broken and this gift I give in token to my friends blood unspoken." -Ebony Soul* I couldn't stop crying. If only I hadn't let her go out that day. If only I had persisted that she should stay home. She was sick. I couldn't stop crying. She had been a carefree, laughing spirit. Full of joy. Never sad for too long. She could always cheer you up. I couldn't stop crying.  
  
Now she's walking through the clouds, with a circus mind that's running wild Butterflies and zebras moonbeams and fairytales All she ever thinks about is riding with the wind  
  
I felt a hand on my shoulder. A whisper, soft, caressing in my ear. It's alright... She was always there. Whenever I cried that hand was on my shoulder. That caress in my ear. I knew she didn't want me to be so sad. But the sorrow of her loss racked my soul. Ever since Lord Voldemort's downfall, we thought she would be alright. But Voldemort would always have followers. Even in death. There were still those who hated Erin and Harry for Voldemort's defeat. They would make them pay. I couldn't stop crying. I could feel her there. Standing next to me smiling. Giving me her smiles. She looked at the grave sadly. Somehow I knew she did. And suddenly there was a new writing on the tombstone.  
  
When I'm sad she comes to me. With a thousand smiles she gives to me free It's alright its alright she says. Take anything you want from me. Anything....  
  
She just stood there. The hand on my shoulder. I looked at the new inscription. I stared. I couldn't stop staring. I looked up at where she should be. I saw nothing. But just because I saw nothing didn't mean I didn't feel the hand on my shoulder. Didn't mean I didn't know she was there. Her black hair would be blowing daintily in the small wintry breeze. Her green eyes sparkling with mischief. The star scar she had on her forehead was gone. It had gone with Voldemort. In its place was a small, green emerald. Just as big as a drop of water. She moved again. Unfurling her white-feathered wings, showing them off as I stared noiselessly at the new inscription that was slowly fading away. She laughed. All I could hear was a distant tinkle of bells. I couldn't stop crying. No sobs echoed through the morning mist and snow, but tears silently took their path down my face. I smiled. Couldn't laugh. But smiled. The inscription said "When in doubt, chicken out" Apparently she was telling me that she had merely chickened out and that her death wasn't my fault. The pain weighed heavily on me still. I wondered how she had chickened out. She had been murdered. I heard that caress in my ear again. It carried a woeful message this time. Filled with regret. I gave up. I'm sorry.  
  
When I'm sad she comes to me. With a thousand smiles she gives to me free. Its alright its alright she says. Take anything you want from me. Anything....  
  
I couldn't stop crying. I stood. I had lingered here long enough. Snow was beginning to collect on my pants and shirt. The flowers were all but buried. A whisper and a sigh came to me this time. The hand becoming two and giving me a chilling, yet warming hug. I'm sorry Ron. I gave up. I chickened out. You know I can't stand the sight of blood....  
  
I wept silently as the hands left me. I couldn't stop crying. The last line of a loved song came to me through the misty morning snow.  
  
Fly little wing........  
  
** 21ish you do the math.... * A poem I wrote 


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